Down with the Sickness
by Sarah Rose Serena
Summary: Grace is running away. Nick is going home. When they meet under stressed circumstances, sparks fly. But their romance doesn't turn bad, it blooms out of the hellish remains of the nightmares they both lived through.
1. Prologue

_Down with the Sickness_

_Starring..._

_The Hitcher's Grace Andrews_

_House of Wax's Nick Jones_

_And_

_One Tree Hill's Lucas Scott and Brooke Davis_

_..._

_A blend of a sequel, mixing The Hitcher, House of Wax, One Tree Hill, and Stay Alive_

_(Companion Photos on my Profile)  
_

* * *

_**Down with the Sickness**_

_Prologue_

_Grace Andrews_

The long stretch of nothingness that spread out over miles of Mideast national forest was what tucked in either side of the black paved interstate. A simple two-lane stretch of road with no shoulder and deserted usage was a setting that would make most people's skin involuntarily crawl, even if they weren't horror buffs.

A _"borrowed" _silver Skyline, pretty worse for wear, skimmed through the sharp bend at high speeds, barreling towards the green highway sign signaling the nearest town was approximately 45 miles north. The seemingly reckless driver was a young brunette, pallid complexion and crimson lips paired with a serious set brow proved experience. The tingle instinctually running p her spine, brought on by the scenery, was ignored with practiced determination.

Grace Andrews was not one easily frightened; a force to be reckoned with since surviving through a psychopath's obsessive interest. It had been two years since that fateful vacation, when she mercilessly took a life in cold blood after watching her boyfriend be, literally, ripped apart by a semi. Two years since she'd gotten a decent night's sleep, since she'd been home, since she'd seen her family, since she'd been just a normal girl. All of that was gone.

Now she was… perfectly put… down with the sickness. Her only option was to embrace the changes that she'd suffered. It was her only chance at staying somewhat sane. No family, no friends.... absolutely no attachments, kept at a distance, detached from the world, Grace moves through the motions, intent on making it through each day, one at a time, without breaking down.

Now she was driving cross-country, living out of her car until she reached the upper east coast, and settle down, finally. She felt she was finally ready to make roots, to move on, and try to return to a somewhat normal existence.

An hour down the road, Grace pulled into a truck stop with a gas station and 24 hour diner, her stomach grumbling yearningly, reminding her that it had been two days since she'd eaten anything other that convenience store energy bars.

Pulling on her worn but reliable leather jacket over a white tank top and dark jeans, Grace locked the car and entered the diner, taking a seat at a corner booth out of the way, keeping her eyes to herself and resisting the urge to let her gaze linger over the various suspicious looking characters milling around here and there. Just a typical late-night diner that was occupied by typical, grungy, road-worn people, mostly men… she ignored the chills running through her as she sensed more than a few eyes on her. She wouldn't expect anything less from a place like this.

If it weren't for the warm steel of the 9mm pressed against the small of her back, tucked into the waistband of her jeans, Grace wouldn't have been brave enough to come in. With a deep sigh and a forced shake of her head, Grace leaned her elbows on the table, looking up at the haggard waitress approaching her, and settled on an oblivious yet wary state until she was well fed and ready to get out.

…

_Nick Jones_

It had been a full three days that he'd been cooped up in that pickup of his, since he left his sister, Carly in New York, on his way back home. It seemed longer, but he was used to the less than comfortable accommodations. It just got so tiring sometimes, out on the road alone for long stretches of time, with nothing to distract his mind. His bleary eyes making the dark pavement blend with old memories, memories he'd rather not reminisce.

Three in the morning and he found himself slumped in a booth at an all-night diner, his tired eyes watery from the thick blanket of smoke settled in the air from the chain-smoking trucker's seated in booth's around him. A plate of scraps pushed to the side of the table, waiting for the waitress to retrieve it was the only thing on the table besides the untouched pack of Marlboro's and companion Zippo lighter.

He was just about to get out of the hellhole and find an hourly motel nearby to catch a few hours rest when the bell attached to the door jingled, like it had a thousand times before. He didn't know what possessed him to do so, but he felt the urge to look up to see who had entered. His curiosity hadn't made him interested in seeing the new arrival the first ten times that bell had rung since he'd gotten there, but it didn't matter.

Pulling out his wallet and dropping a bill on the table as he slid from the booth, Nick turned to glance over his shoulder towards the door, his hardened expression softening slightly, narrowed eyes relaxing as they followed the beautiful girl across the room. He watched her move, sliding into a corner booth and pulling into herself. She looked damaged, was the first thought that came to mind. It instantly drew his attention.

Her body was reclusive, drawn into herself, her arms held close to her body, her shoulders stiff. Her head was kept downcast, her eyes exhausted and wary. He felt drawn to her, his curiosity piqued restlessly. Shaking off his thoughts, Nick brushed past her booth, their eyes briefly locking before he shuffled out the door and she turned back to the window, staring thoughtlessly out into the dark. The image of mysterious girl, curled into the corner, looking weary, wary, and broken burned into his brain as he drove away.

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_(Tell me what you think. Your response will determine whether I feel it is worth continuing.) _

**_Stay Tuned... _**


	2. Chapter 1

_**Down with the Sickness**_

_Chapter 1_

_Grace_

Hours after hours, miles over miles, and the road ahead of her was exactly the same, the scenery was the same, the inky night's sky felt the same, and the exhaustion that was beginning to finally overtake her was the same as it always was. Grace's head lolled to the side, dropping down slowly before snapping back up, her heavy, weary eyes widening after having fallen closed. The sudden swerve of the car, the loud and bumpy rattle of the edge of the road's alarm startled her awake. Grace sighed heavily, blinking rapidly to clear her eyes, turning on her high beams and blasting the stereo before rolling down the window and letting the harsh wind whip across her face, tangling her hair.

It was at least another twenty miles before the next town, so she wouldn't be making it to a motel. She settled for planning to stop at the next rest stop she found and rest there until dawn. It wouldn't be smart for her to keep going in the dark like this, not in her tired state.

With that decided, Grace turned to flip through the stations on the radio, hoping to find something loud and heavy to keep her awake, something she could stand. Less than two stations past, her attention perked up at the sound of a loud racket of an approaching truck. It's loud engine roared, sounding terrifying compared to the soft purr of her Skyline. She glanced in the rearview mirror, only to be blinded by headlights on high beams of the approaching truck, which grew louder and closer as it accelerated, making her anxious.

Grace eased her foot off the acceleration, slowing her speed to a safe 55, hovering towards the edge of the highway, making it clear that the stranger behind the russet pickup should pass her. The seconds passed as it grew closer and closer, and made no move to pass her. Grace felt a heady mixture of fear and irritation settle over her heart, making it pick up speed. She couldn't help the sixth sense inside her that made the irrational dread in her seem more like foreshadowing intuition. Two years, two years and after everything, the least Grace learned was to _always_ trust her gut, no matter how the situation seemed.

With that in mind, she picked up speed just as the truck reached tailgating distance between her. A sharp collision with her bumper jostled Grace, and the Skyline wavered before her fists tightened around the wheel, steadying it. Her mind raced, searching for options, the best way to get out of the situation safely. She had no idea what was going on, only what was happening. She knew she was in trouble, the ominous truck behind her with its loud roar and bright lights and tinted windows, all screamed threat. She knew it was past time to get the hell out. She didn't need to know now.

But the road was just a straight stretch either ways, nothing but uninterrupted forestry on both sides of the interstate, and no exit in sight. There was no way to avoid it. Before she could come up with a defensive move, the truck jumped forward, slamming into her again, and by the time Grace had the car under control again, the truck had moved to the other lane, parallel to her, and keeping speed.

An ultimatum flashed through her mind as her body froze, unable to react. Slam the brake and head the other way—or hit the gas and try to out run it. Just as she was about to come to a dead stop and 180, and attempt to out run it in the other direction, the truck swerved suddenly, slamming into the side of her Skyline, knocking her off the road. Grace's instant reaction was to steady the wheel and slam on the break, and though the car slowed drastically, it wasn't quick enough to stop the collision. The car went plummeting off the road and into a tree.

The threatening truck sped off down the interstate as the crumpled Skyline sit idly by, smoke emanating from the mangled engine, headlights shining into the trees. Grace's fingers twitched futilely, still gripping the steering wheel as her body went limp, blood trickling down from her forehead as it rest against the wheel, her eyes fluttering in a weak attempt at holding on to consciousness. In the end, she failed, and everything fell dark.

…

_Nick_

Crashing down on the double bed in the fleabag motel room, Nick rubbed a hand over his face, letting his eyes drift closed tiredly with a sigh of relief. It felt so good to finally stretch out his back. The stench of week old sweat and dirt coming from the duvet, and even the gritty texture of sand on the spread did nothing to deter his comfort. It was better than being cramped up in the cab of his Dodge.

Just as he was about to slip away to unconsciousness, a vibrating sensation in his pant pocket brought Nick's attention away from the dream he was falling towards, and back to the room at hand as he pulled out his cell phone to find his twin sister, Carly's name displayed on the screen.

"Yeah…?" He greeted gruffly, holding the phone to his ear with one hand while rubbing his eyes tiredly with the other, lying back on the bed wistfully.

"Hey, Nick. Sorry if I woke you. I just wanted to make sure you got out of the city okay. _Are you_ okay?" Carly replied, a worried edge to her voice that instantly piqued his inner exasperation. Things between the two siblings had definitely changed since that bloody weekend two years ago, and he wasn't sure it was for the better. Sure, they appreciated each other much more now. The events of their visit to the House of Wax sure put things between them in perspective, what with the near death experience and having all their friends murdered, and such. But he wasn't sure the exchange of what had improved between them and what had worsened was worth it.

"I'm fine, or I would be if I could manage to shut my eyes for more than a few seconds." He countered, instantly regretting that his voice came out harsher than he intended. Sleep depravation did not make him nice, by any means.

"Right, sorry. I know you hate it when I check up on you. I just got to thinking, and thinking leads to worrying, and… well, you know the rest. Anyway, now that I've talked to you, I can get a good night's sleep with no more worry. I'm sorry I bothered you. Call me when you get home." The familiar sound of his sister's voice aided in relaxing him even more, and Nick found his eyes drifting shut heavily, more than ready to accept the call of that comfortable oblivion.

"Promise…" He mumbled, already half-unconscious.

"Love you," Carly muttered just as he snapped the phone shut, his hand immediately falling limp to the bed, the phone tumbling out of his grasp.

It couldn't have been more than twenty minutes later when Nick was startled awake by a loud thumping. Springing up in bed groggily, Nick glanced around him warily, looking for a threat. After a moment of silence, he was about to return to bed when the noise started up again, and turned into a steady rhythm. Now that he was awake, it was obvious the sound was of a headboard slamming into the wall in the room beside his.

Nick groaned loudly, rolling his eyes and scrubbing a hand over his face in frustration. Falling back to the bed, he used a spare pillow to cover his head, muffling the soundtrack. After almost another half hour, Nick rolled over in bed with a huff, royally pissed. The rhythm of the shaky headboard paired with the extremely vocal tenants was more than he could block out, and he definitely wouldn't be getting back to sleep, not here anyway.

"Fuck it," he snapped with a heavy, aggravated sigh. Nick gathered his things and left the motel room behind with a disgruntled slam of the door behind him.

…

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**_Stay Tuned... to see things heat up. _**


	3. Chapter 2

_**Down with the Sickness**_

_Chapter 2_

_Grace_

Grace jumped at the soft tapping on her window, twisting her whole body towards the noise while simultaneously leaping backwards, pressing her back against the passenger door to get as far away as possible to the mysterious threat that had pulled her from unconsciousness. But when her spotty vision cleared enough for her to look out the window, she didn't see anyone there. There was nothing but silence. The quiet sounds of her massacred car were the only sounds penetrating the night besides the cricket's songs.

Feeling wetness along her face, Grace reached up, dragging her fingers along her forehead and pulling back to find them sticky with her own blood. A trail of it dripped down from her hairline, making tracks along the side of her face, and bits over her nose and lip. Stretching the sleeve of her white shirt, Grace scrubbed the sticky substance out of her eyes, off her lips and nose, and tried to clean her forehead, but winced in pain as she scrapped across the wound by accident.

"Ow," She hissed suddenly, slamming her head back against the window behind her and biting her lip as she waited for the intense throbbing pain to subside. After the pain lessoned to a constant dull ache that she could deal with, Grace took in the situation at hand, silently praying that the mysterious menace and it's roaring russet dinosaur of a truck didn't come back, she pulled out the cell phone she kept tucked away in the glove box.

_No service…_

"Of course…" She muttered bitterly, rolling her eyes and puffing out a breath. She climbed out of the car, testing the cell service hopefully, but unwilling to stray too far from the car. She didn't even want to return to the road, feeling the kind of irrational terror that made you not want to move, to just hide under the covers, close your eyes, and wish the monsters in your closet away. Grace scoffed at the thought, though unable to fully push aside the feeling, and comforted herself marginally by letting her hand stray to the 9mm Beretta she kept tucked in her waistband. She tried to not leave the car without it, ever.

But the security of feeling the warm steel pressed against her bare skin did not quell her fear as it usually did, only made it easier to breath, the panic and terror not so consuming that it constricted her breathing and heartbeat.

She leaned against the side of the silver Skyline, wrapping her arms around herself protectively as she tried to recall just where she was and how far from civilization she was stranded. Remembering a sign for mileage of the nearest town, Grace knew that she would get somewhere faster by continuing in the direction she was initially headed. But there was no way she was going to brave the darkness ahead of her, gun or no gun.

Quickly resolving to wait it out in the mangled car till sunrise, then start walking and hope she made it somewhere in one piece, Grace turned and scurried back into the car, locking the doors and curling up into a ball in the backseat. Her shifty eyes jumped at every little movement, the bristle of a tree branch or the scurry of a squirrel. After about an hour, Grace broke the silence around her with a bitter bark of laughter, sneering at herself for her weakness.

She forcibly relaxed somewhat, lying down in the backseat and curling onto her side. She propped her head in one arm on the armrest in the door, and let her other hand linger over the steel of the handgun, comforting her enough to allow her eyes to close.

…

_Nick_

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep." He murmured begrudgingly to himself, reciting a Robert Frost poem he read in high school as he drove. The next town over was only about 30 miles down the road, and he knew he wasn't going to make it very long without caffeine, so Nick just kept his bleary eyes on the road and attempted to keep himself awake. The quote seemed fitting, all things considered, as the black Dodge sped down the abandoned interstate, a dark forest encroaching on either side, blocking most of the moon's glow.

As his eyes began to flutter closed tiredly, Nick was startled into alertness as the sight of wreckage became visible the moment he reached the top of the incline. As the Dodge drew closer, he pressed on the brake, coming to a stop on the shoulder. He put the truck in park, turned the high beams on, and climbed out, warily making his way off the road, towards the motionless car wedged into a tree a little ways off the road. The smoke emanating from where the hood collided with the tree made him nervous, but he kept moving closer, curiosity and worry getting the best of him.

As he neared the silver car, Nick's steps faltered, his eyes landing on the backseat, where he could make out a familiarly curvy figure curled up on her side, one hand twisted around to her back while the other was tucked under her head, her eyes fluttering softly, between consciousness and sleep. As he stepped up to the backdoor and peered inside, Nick immediately recognized the dark haired beauty as the girl from the diner that had so inexplicably captivated his thoughts. Granted she was even worse for wear than she had been when he'd first seen her, even still, there was something about her that simply drew him to her.

He leaned a hand on the rim of the door, bending over slightly as he tapped his knuckles on the back window. As the girl shifted jerkily, pulling her towards consciousness, Nick tried the handle, finding it unlocked, and opened the door to crouch down just as the girl sprung up suddenly. Her one hand gripped the door handle behind her back as the other pulled away from behind her, bringing her arm out till she had the dangerous end of a silver handgun aimed at him, square in the chest. Her eyes were startled and serious, and her hand wavered slightly, making it obvious her body was trembling with the surprise, but her finger flipped the safety off expertly.

Nick fought the urge to jump back, and instead remained still, bringing his hands up to show he meant her no harm. The fingers of her free hand clutched tighter to the door handle, flinging the door open after bracing her back against the seat. Her aim of the gun started to slip downwards for a moment before she locked her elbow.

"What do you want?" She demanded, her voice raspy and harsh, made it clear to him she wasn't just a scared little girl with a gun, and knew exactly what she was doing. Her leg slid over the seat, to brace itself on the ground outside the door, getting in a position to bolt as her eyes locked with his, refusing to look away, though her hard gaze made him want to.

"Uh, currently…?" He questioned, arching a brow skeptically as he regarded her with caution, his eyes scanning the situation in sync with his mind, searching for an option to diffuse it. "To _not_ get shot," He quipped sardonically, hoping the lightness in his tone would let her know she'd gotten the wrong idea. He would just outright plead to make her believe he didn't mean to scare her, but the girl was high-wired and dangerous, and looked a mix between a deer caught in headlights and stone cold _'don't fuck with me'_.

The crease in her brow tightened as her expression hardened for a moment, not appreciating his sarcasm at all. "Then I'd answer the question." She retorted bitingly, narrowing her eyes at him even as she inched towards getting both feet securely planted on the ground and her body out of the backseat without shaking her aim.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alive."

"Come again?" She snapped, the gun jumping slightly for emphasis that he really hadn't used the right words. Nick sighed, shook his head, and began again in a placating tone.

"Well, when I saw your car kissing a tree, I thought someone might've been hurt. I was just checking… didn't mean to scare you." He told her, his eyes following closely as she stepped out of the car, her eyes and aim never leaving him. She gestured for him to stand up straight, and he followed her movements, not wanting to anger the _possibly_ unstable girl with a gun.

She remained silent at that, her eyes appraising him reluctantly as she rounded the car, bringing her second hand up to cup the butt of the pistol as her arms obviously started to ache. As she stepped forward, he backed away as she led him back towards the road. They stopped on the shoulder and her eyes jumped from him to his truck in consideration. After a long charged moment, she exhaled heavily, letting her arm drop to her side, the gun tapping against her thigh anxiously.

"Not the same truck…" She mumbled to herself in obvious relief as she shot him a semi-apologetic look. Nick felt sure enough of her swift mood swing to lower his hands to his sides.

"Mind telling me what that was about?" He questioned, keeping his feet planted where they were as she returned to her car, popping the truck, apparently not worried about him anymore as she turned her back on him unguarded. She glanced over her shoulder at him absently as she tucked the gun away at the small of her back and pulled out a mid-sized duffel, and wrapped the long strap across her chest, and left it hanging on her shoulder, reaching down to her thigh.

"I thought you were someone else."

"Glad I'm not." He quipped dryly, watching as she moved around to the front of the car and took the keys, stuffed them in her jean's pocket, and shut off everything before taking a rag from the glove compartment and wiping down the dashboard, the steering wheel, and the console and door handles. It was obvious what she was doing, and why she was doing it, which only confused him more. To think a girl like that would be in a stolen car, obviously not from around, and waiting in the wreckage with a gun to greet whoever it was she had been expecting.

When she was done, she locked the car up and turned back to him.

"I need a ride into town." She told him quietly, not meeting his eyes as she walked past him towards the road, bringing the tip of her jacket sleeve up to rub at the gash on the corner of her hairline, and put her back to him as she winced in pain, shoulders stiffening.

"Sure." He muttered to her back, all he could manage as he dully followed her back to his truck. As he waited for her to climb into the passenger side, Nick silently wondered why the hell he was doing this. She could've easily just killed him back there, he didn't know anything about her, except that she was in some sort of dangerous situation and it seemed that she was the dangerous one. So why was he so willing to give her a hand? He had thought he'd left those days behind him, breaking laws, guns, and danger. He thought he had let that go and grown up since the _incident_. Obviously not… since the first mysterious, threateningly beautiful woman that comes along has him easily dragged back in.

…


	4. Chapter 3

_**Down with the Sickness**_

_Chapter 3_

_Grace_

The road stretched on ahead of them, the tense silence enveloping the cab of the truck was left undisturbed, only penetrated by the occasional rhythm of fingers thumping restlessly against the dashboard on the passenger side. He had given up his search for something other than static from the radio about twenty minutes ago, and she was glad.

Grace sat with her side pressed uncomfortably into the door, her hand wrapped around the armrest, ready for a quick exit if necessary, but she didn't think it would be. She knew she should be more worried about the situation she found herself in, as eerily familiar as it was. But she was finding it difficult to stay conscious, never mind wage an internal debate over whether she had been targeted, or it had just been random road rage.

Her head kept lolling to the side as her eyes drifted closed, too heavy to keep open. But she kept trying, blinking rapidly against the sting of bleariness. Though the sharp edges of the 9mm that was jammed painfully into the small of her back as she sat helped her keep awake, as long as she concentrated on it.

"Are you alright?" He asked, and Grace opened her eyes with a deep breath, and found him casting nervous sidelong glances her way. Her hand went up to the corner of her forehead on reflex at his worry-furrowed brow, ghosting fingertips over it gingerly, just to make sure it hadn't started bleeding again. When she pulled her hand back clean, Grace nodded dismissively, not bothering to look up. She waited for the silence to claim her once again so she could lean her head back and rest her eyes, but he didn't let it.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take you to the hospital? You probably have a concussion or something. I don't think it would be a good idea for you to sleep right now."

"I'm fine."

"You just wrapped your car around a tree." He countered evenly. Her abrasive tone did nothing to deter him. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice it. And that irritated her. She was used to people steering clear due to her cold exterior making them uncomfortable. She liked it that way. It was that way for a reason. And he just didn't seem to care.

"Don't worry about me. I've had worse." She muttered in response, her tone telling him to drop it and leave her be.

A few minutes went by in silence, and she let herself relax again, thinking he was finished. But when she leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes, she felt his gaze on her. It made her want to fidget, but her body was just too exhausted to move.

"What's your name?" He asked out of nowhere, making her open her eyes and turned her head against the seat to look over at him, a crease forming in her brow as her eyes narrowed blurrily.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I want to know what to call you."

"Don't call me anything." She bit back without thought. She glanced back at him in consideration, observing his reaction, and was inwardly relieved at his indifference. The only noticeable sign that he had heard her was the curious glint that appeared in his azure eyes.

"Fine by me…" He murmured absently, turning his inquisitive stare back to the road. "I'm Nick."

Grace turned back to her side of the truck at that, committing his name to memory before letting herself relax into the seat again, her grip on the door turned lax. Her eyes stayed open, watching the forest rush by dully as a sliver of the dark sky began to lighten, bringing dawn closer and closer. They stayed that way in silence, Grace sinking further into her exhaustion until she noticed the trees thinning, a sure sign that they were closing in on the next town.

When a green road-sign went by, Grace picked her head up and started to take in her surroundings a little closer.

"_Thurmont_…?" She murmured under her breath in confusion. It wasn't till that moment that she recalled that she really didn't know exactly where they were. Nick turned to glance her way, reminded of her presence at the sound of her voice, and nodded towards the exit that was coming up in the distance.

"We passed through into Maryland a few miles back." He told her absently, swerving off the interstate smoothly and exiting onto a side road that took them into a desolate little town. The kind of town that needs relies on the adjacent highway to keep it from being swallowed by the woods.

"I didn't notice." She murmured dully, barely loud enough for him to hear.

"Yeah, well you wouldn't," he replied, and she frowned out the side window, thinking he was trying to imply something that she was just too tired to get. "I had planned on not stopping till _Winchester_, but got a little preoccupied. This is as far as I can make it till I get some sleep."

Grace nodded disinterestedly, fingering a worn tear in the leather of the armrest as she bit her lip hard to keep her eyes open. "Just drop me off at that gas station over there," she said, gesturing towards an _Exxon_ on the corner he was about to take.

"Nah, I can find the local garage first." He offered lightly, passing the gas station up as he turned at the light. "You'll be able to get a tow truck and get back to your car before-"

"No." Grace cut in, dismissing his offer and shooting him an irritated look for passing the station as she turned in her seat, angling her body towards him. "No, just drop me there." She said, and immediately noticed the knowing look on his face as his eyes stayed focused on the road. Grace narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure out what he was getting at.

"Where are you going to go?"

"Why does it matter?" She countered defensively, sitting back in her seat as it became obvious he wouldn't be turning back for the _Exxon_. She sighed heavily, rubbing her bleary eyes as he pulled into the one and only motel in town, across the street from a dingy _Denny's_.

The _'Motor Inn'_ sign above the second floor balcony was illuminated in red, and flickered as if it were as tired as she was. Grace gripped the door handle unsurely as Nick climbed out of the Dodge, cramming the keys into his pocket as he grabbed the wallet that had been tossed over the dash, and stuffed it into his back pocket. He slammed the door shut without locking it, and rounded the front of the truck, headed towards the front office. He nodded over his shoulder, meeting Grace's eyes and gesturing for her to follow him.

"Lucky me…" She grumbled uncertainly under her breath, even as she climbed out of the truck to follow after him with a resigned sigh. Her mind was too tired to think about what she would do now. She needed rest before she could plan her next move. And since he was offering…

"Look," she began as she caught up to his long stride across the parking lot. "I don't know you, and you don't know me. I appreciate the ride, but that's it." She told him, using up the last shred of her resistance as her words began to imperceptibly slur. Her eyes were blurry, watering, and burning, and her feet were so heavy they scuffled across the pavement almost to the point of stumbling. It vaguely occurred to her that maybe she did have a mild concussion, and quite possibly should go to the hospital. But she quickly shook the option off as impossible.

"You're dead weight." He countered easily, not interested at all in her pointless protest. "And I need to crash for at least a couple hours. Just come in, get some rest, and in the morning I'll drop you off in town, see 'bout getting your car towed." He told her absently over his shoulder as she followed him towards the main office, lagging behind several steps.

Grace shook her head in a weak protest, her lips parting to refuse his offer once more, but the words died on her tongue. Mild concussion or not, Grace could handle herself. She didn't need anyone's help.

_Though it would be nice_… she argued with herself, the defiant, stubborn part of her losing to the tired ache throbbing through her. She swayed on her feet unsteadily, and knew she wouldn't last much longer. So, thinking back to the twenty dollar bill in her wallet in the back pocket of her dirty jeans, which was the last of her cash, Grace let out a defeated sigh and silently conceded with the stranger's seemingly nonchalant insistence, following him out of the main office moments after he took the motel room key from the middle-aged woman behind the front desk, a Stephen King novel clutched eagerly in her hand as she dealt with them impatiently.

…


	5. Chapter 4

_**Down with the Sickness**_

_Chapter 4_

_Grace_

…_It was dark and cold. The motel room was bare and creepy in its familiarity. Grace laid on the edge of the double bed, curled on her side with her arms propped under her face and her knees drawn up slightly. Smoke and cologne clung to the plain duvet strewn across it, and the pillowcases felt gritty, like sand. _

_But she was too tired and scared to mind. She laid there in the dark, holding her eyes closed tightly, waiting patiently to wake up from this nightmare. The other side of the bed was sunken in and still warm, but it was empty. She felt like a child holding the covers over her head and keeping her eyes shut, determined to banish the terrifying shadows creeping across the edges of her room. The kind of shadows that were terrifying and relentless in the dark, and then with the simple flick of a light switch, turned to forgotten jackets tossed over armchairs. _

_She heard a noise from behind her, and remembered that her back was to the door. She wanted to jump and run, to turn and fight off the monster in the closet, but she found herself frozen, not brave enough to open her eyes and face reality. As if she just kept her eyes closed, it would all go away. But it didn't. _

_And she listened tensely as someone crept closer to the bed, trying to be quiet. Then the bed shifted beside her, and she felt a warm body press against her back. Relentless chills racked her spinal column almost to the point of pain as a calloused hand brushed along her side, grazing curves slowly, intimately. And she just laid there, frozen stiff, and wished that she had put on something more than the skimpy, ragged too-short denim shorts and the tank top made of material that would wash away too-easily. _

_It was like living a horror movie, in that particular scene she'd grown horribly familiar with as it replayed over and over, and she was helpless to break the cycle. As the heat from his hand seared into her sensitive skin, his caress turning into a hard grip, Grace's fingers curled in the material of the sheet, her muscles so taut it felt like they'd shatter. _

_Finally, with a sharp intake of breath, and the transition of a sudden scream, Grace broke through the paralyzing fear, and opened her eyes. Her body jumped, trying to close as much distance as possible as she fly from them bed, her hand grasping for the gun that should have been right with her, but wasn't…_

"Get away!" She snapped viciously, the venom in her voice almost masking the panicked terror as her ass landed on the hard floor and she scurried backwards over the scratchy carpet till her back collided with the wall beside the bathroom door. Her eyes cleared as her breath came in jagged gasps, and the only thing she could hear was her heart hitting her ribcage.

The man on the bed sat up slowly, propping himself up on his elbows as he looked down at her, his brow creased in confusion and his eyes narrowed groggily. As Grace's eyes cleared more, the shadow he started as receded, and she came back to her senses, taking in Nick's face and remembering who he was and where they were.

He stayed silent, just watching her warily from his position on the bed. Grace didn't even try moving from her spot in the corner, just waited patiently for her heartbeat to calm and her breathing to return to normal. Once it had and she was certain she had recovered her wits, Grace uncoiled and pushed away from the wall, getting back to her feet.

"What did you do?" She snapped harshly, her fists balling in the sheet underneath her that had been dragged with her from the bed. He simply cocked a brow at her anger, his eyes narrowing through his sleepy blurriness.

"Waking you up," he retorted easily, his tone mixed with the slight crease in his brow saying he thought she was nuts.

"Why?" She demanded relentlessly, her eyes narrowing at him in irrational accusation.

"Because you were kicking me…" He bit back, irritated. Tired of the exchange and her irrational reaction to what was so obviously a nightmare, Nick flopped onto his back, resting a hand on his stomach as the other arm flung over his eyes. It took less than a few seconds before his breathing evened out once more and he returned to sleep. And it took a lot longer than that for Grace to finally relax enough to lie back in bed beside him and try for more rest.

…

In the morning, as she showered, Grace couldn't help the vivid images that assailed her mind, making her hands slam against the tile in front of her, her head falling against its cool surface as she struggled for breath. "Calm down, Grace. You are fine," she whispered, trying to convince herself as her body shook weakly. _Snap out of it, pussy; there's nothing wrong_, she thought.

She shut off the water and climbed out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself. She leaned on the vanity, her eyes on the mirror as her body practically doubled over. "God, what is wrong with me?" _Shock_, her mind answered. Her eyes pulled to open heavily, drifting up to the reflection in the mirror. It was wrong, not her at all, but a decrepit shadow of a creature. It struck a chord within her, and before she could stop herself, Grace had flown her fist into the glass, shattering it with an angry cry.

She went stumbling backward, blood dripping from her knuckles as she went, and fell down on the edge of the bathtub, her knees too weak to support herself. The bathroom door rattled for a moment before Nick burst in, taking in the scene before crouching down beside her with a hesitantly worried expression.

"You—" he began, but she waved a hand at him and shook her head, shutting her eyes tightly and pressing her lips into a thinly set line. He grabbed the cheap first aid kit out from underneath the sink, and worked on bandaging her bloody knuckles.

She hissed at the sting of the anti-septic, but otherwise remained silently withdrawn until he started rubbing the Neosporin over her cut forehead gingerly. "It occurred to me—" she started without preamble, speaking her thoughts aloud. "In the shower," she continued, nodding imperceptibly to the bathtub over her shoulder. "That maybe this is all in my head. Maybe I'm still in my car, tangled with that tree. Maybe I never woke up and all of this is just…" Grace trailed off as Nick glanced up to meet her gaze, examining her eyes thoughtfully before returning his attention to her hand. "Or maybe I lost my mind a long time ago, and there never was a loud russet pickup that ran me off the road."

"Possible… probable…" he murmured in agreement, his dismissive tone contrasting with her disheartened mood. He placed her hand gingerly in her lap and focused his attention on Grace's face, his eyes burning into hers, too intimately, too personally. "But I doubt I'm a figment of your disillusioned mind."

"Why's that?"

"Even your subconscious couldn't create an elaborately fucked up creature like me with all the bells and whistles that accompany it. If you could conjure up a creation like me, my past included, then you'd be better than Stephen King." He told her, a ghost of a smirk tugging up one corner of his mouth as he regarded her intently, a lightness coated heavily over the intensity that lie beneath. Grace blew out a bitter laugh, shaking her head and sniffling quietly as she reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, her other hand gripping her knee. Without another word, Nick stood up, towering over her, forcing her to look upwards to follow his eyes, and held out an expectant hand for her.

"C'mon, let's get out of here. Go get some breakfast…"

"You mean lunch."

"Yeah, sure… lunch."

…

After a few minutes of driving around, they crossed a Denny's down the street from the interstate. He moved to go in, and Grace followed absently, going through the motions, as if bogged down.

"Where are you headed anyway?" he asked casually between bites of his bacon.

Grace's hand froze uneasily, and she set the fork down on her plate before turning her gaze up to him, and rested her elbows on the table. "That depends."

"On what…?"

"I don't know yet."

"You don't know what it depends on, or you don't know where you're going?"

"Both." Grace told him with a soft shrug of her shoulders. She glanced up as the waitress came by again, refilling their coffee mugs before scurrying away, and once she turned the corner Grace looked back at Nick and continued. "Where are you going?"

"Home; I was in New York visiting my sister. I'm on my way back."

"Where is home exactly?" she questioned with an interested tilt of her head, her eyes narrowing softly as the corners of her mouth twitched up into a faint, sociable smile.

"Denver," he said, right before taking another bite of his chicken club sandwich. Grace stared at him for a moment, a crease in her brow and her lips parted.

"Um… aren't you a little out of the way? I mean, New York to Colorado… you should've been on the I-75, cut across-"

"Yeah, I know." He cut in with a nod of his head. Grace glanced down at her plate, fingering the fork as she fiddled with the remains of her pancakes. "I'm taking the long way 'round. While I'm on the road, figure I might as well stop down in Florida, see an old friend of mine first."

"Florida, huh…" she repeated softly, her eyes clouding over as she was lost in thought. Florida could be good. She had originally been headed up to New York, planning on moving on to Maine after that. But she had no real reason to go. They're all just spots on a map to her. And now that she has no car, till she can get another one safely, she's floundering. No destination in sight. And though she knew it went against the guidelines she lived by, Grace found herself favoring the idea of sticking with him till she got into a better position.

There was just something about him that lulled her into a false feeling of safety.

…


	6. Chapter 5

_**Down with the Sickness**_

_Chapter 5_

She leaned against the door of his truck as he drove down the interstate, her eyes drifting closed. Night had fallen again, and there was no accessible town anywhere in a 300 mile radius. Grace had just about fallen asleep when she felt the vehicle slow. Her head snapped up to see what was going on, and the first thing she noticed was the rain pounding heavily against them. The second was the flashing-emergency lights of a van up ahead. Then she realized why Nick was braking.

"Don't stop," she told him, dead serious. Nick turned to look at her, a frown pulling his brow tight. Memories flashed through her mind, a desperate reminder that had a panic attack threatening to consume her.

"She probably has kids in there." He gestured towards the woman-shaped figure hidden under the yellow slicker, who was standing by the broken down car.

"I don't care. Keep driving," she barked harshly, her urgency growing the closer they got.

"Look, I don't know what your deal is, but this is still my truck, and if—" His words cut off as she pulled out the Beretta and aimed it square at his chest, keeping it below the windshield level.

"Keep… driving…" she ordered unflinchingly, murder in her tone and tightly controlled terror in her eyes. She tried to cover her panic with anger, with cocked guns and dead-serious warnings, but she couldn't hide it from him. He could see it wound tightly within her, cowering behind a façade of unfeeling harshness.

Unsure of her intentions and doubting just how serious she was, Nick kept his foot on the accelerator, not wanting to take the chance until he knew just how out of her mind she really was, and drove past the stranded Sedan. Grace lowered the gun with a veiled sigh of relief, cradling it gingerly in her lap as her eyes fixated on the side mirror as the Sedan's headlights faded from view, left behind them. After a mile down the road, she pulled her eyes from the mirror and tucked the gun back into her waistband.

"We'll get them help once we get in range of service," she said quietly, pulling her cell out of her jacket pocket and placing it on the dash in front of her. He wasn't sure whether her words were reassurance directed at him, or an attempt to placate herself and ward off a gnawing sense of guilt.

Either way, Nick stayed silent, a crease in his brow as he nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on the road. A brooding expression casted over him as Grace let her mind wander, her eyes fixed on a void outside the window as the darkness passed them by. They road the rest of the way into the next town in silence, pulling onto an exit to stop for gas as Grace reached for her phone, intent on keeping her promise.

…

Nick pulled the Dodge into a parking space in the vacant lot of the rest stop, a few yards away from the small shack-like building that held the washrooms and vendors. The moon was bright, but the heavy thicket of tree-topped forest all around them lessened its illumination.

The lamp post shone its soft glow through the windshield as he turned off the engine, pitching them into an almost deafening silence. It had been there between them all along, he just hadn't noticed till now. He turned to look over at the small woman huddled into the side door of his truck, her arms wrapped around herself, her tussled hair curtaining her face, shielding it from him.

She looked so dainty and helpless with her exhausted state, an utter contradiction to the woman he'd first met, startled awake by the soft tap on her car window, pulling out a gun and aiming it at his chest expertly, unwaveringly, eyes hard and relentless yet terrified and tired all at the same time.

Unthinkingly, his hand darted out to brush her hair from her face, letting him see her. Her eyes were held closed, her neck fighting the urge to allow her head to fall to the side, and a fresh track of soft tears glistened in the glow of the street lamp outside. He was surprised to find she'd been crying, because she showed no signs at all of any weakness. If he couldn't see with his own eyes the proof, there was no way he would have ever noticed.

When her eyes pull open reluctantly at the feel of his eyes burning into her, Grace sighed deeply, soft and slow, and tilted her head to the side in thought, bringing a knee up to her chest and hugging it as her eyes stared out into the darkness.

"Have you ever felt—"she began thoughtfully, breaking through the silence with a tired voice. There was certain sweetness to the hopelessness in her tone. "Like you went to sleep in the real world, and woke up in some bad horror film?"

Her question took him off guard, because it hit so close to home, too close to be coincidence. He stayed silent for a long while, considering, and she waited patiently, staring out into the darkness like she was in a theatre and the void before them was filled with so much more than he could see. Nick leaned forward, his body unintentionally slanting towards her as his eyes searched the side of her face, wishing she'd turn to face him.

"Every damn day…" Are the only words he can come up with that wouldn't just be repeating hers. What could he say to a question that should have been his to ask? Other than express his agreement. At his words though, Grace blinked heavily, the effort it took to pull herself out of memory and back to the reality of the two of them, in his truck, in a deserted rest stop in the middle of nowhere, was apparent in her features. And once her vision cleared, Grace turned her head slowly to the side, their eyes locking in a moment of clarity, of perfect understanding.

She turned away again, leaning her back into the seat and letting her head fall back against it, eyes closing. She was so very tired. And the residual headache from the head injury she'd suffered was beginning to wear on her.

She felt his knuckles brush against her shoulder, sweeping a lock of dark hair away from the curve of her neck. She turned her head slowly to find him staring at her, his soulful eyes seemingly searing right into her. And as she licked her lips, swallowing thickly, and found herself unable to look away, Grace felt a hot ache settle between her thighs.

Her fingers itched restlessly as they sat on her thighs, over the heavy jean material, and she fidgeted in her seat, her hips writhing imperceptibly as her body yearned to close the distance between them, all sorts of deliciously dirty images flashing through her mind.

She didn't know what had come over her. Typically, she was not the type of girl to just straddle a perfect stranger and beg him to do all sorts of really wrong things to her, no matter how good those wrong things felt. Yet, here she was struggling to keep that from happening. And he was a perfect stranger. She knew absolutely nothing about this guy accept his first name and the fact that he had the most thoughtful, deep eyes she'd ever seen.

Those eyes really didn't match the ruggedly tough exterior. Soulful eyes shouldn't be paired to guys with prison tats. That's just not how it works. Yet, he's the exception. And the current situation seemed to be the exception to her normal inhibitions. She was feeling a little less than in control of her urges and more like her inhibitions had taken a vacation.

Grace licked her lips again, slowly, and the way his eyes fell from her gaze to linger on her lips got her even hotter. And suddenly the part of her brain that said she shouldn't give in to her desires, to those impulsive urges that every living being had but rarely acted on went away. And as the ache inwards intensified, she abruptly found herself unable to find a reason why she would NOT act on the impulse.

That was the last thought that flitted through her mind before she planted a palm on the dashboard and hauled herself across the cab of the truck, swinging a leg over his lap to straddle him. There was a twinge of surprise in his reaction, but it didn't last more than a millisecond before he responded wholeheartedly, like it had been exactly what he had been waiting for.

Grace darted down to press her lips to his in a breathy kiss; an exhilarating shock electrifying them at initial contact. Her hands fell to grip his shoulders, her tussled dark locks falling over her shoulder to curtain around them. Her hips moved above his lap restlessly, strands of hair falling into their way as their lips moved against each other, hot breath mingling.

The steering wheel jammed into her lower back, making the position uncomfortable, but she was too distracted to rectify it. Grace's tongue slipped past her lips to dance with his, as Nick's hands fell to her hips, rhythmically squeezing her, and mentally cursed the thick denim that protected her soft skin from his touch.

Grace pulled back suddenly, a frustrated crease in her brow as she wiggled above him, huffing out an uncomfortable breath as she strained to find a spot away from the steering wheel as her hands made quick work of his belt. Nick panted heavily as their kiss broke; his eyes wide and coated with arousal as he watched her. An amused smirk tugged up the corners of his mouth at the petulantly exasperated expression on her face as she struggled, letting out small whimpers of aggravation.

He undid the button and zipper of her jeans, peeling it back from her skin to expose a scrap of black cotton and sun-kissed skin. Grace lifted herself off his lap, falling sideways, pressing her back to the seat on the other side so she could lift her hips and wriggle the tight jeans down her hips, letting Nick struggle to get them the rest of the way off her legs.

They erupted into breathy laughter as they worked together to rid themselves of their clothes. Once her jeans were tossed aside, Grace climbed back onto his lap, offering a coquettish smile as she dragged her shirt up over her head and discarded it, and then did the same to his. She was left in her black lacy bra, which only partially covered her breasts, the rest of them spilling out over it. Sexy: yes. Supportive: no.

They moved together, disjointed and frantic in the intensifying urgency coiling within them. And as he slid into her, his hips arching upwards as her back bent into a perfect bow, straining her spine as her muscles burned, they exhaled a breath of momentary relief together, hissing at the sensation.

His hands found her hips again, guiding her as she moved above him, rolling her hips against him, her eyes screwed shut and her head thrown back, the palms of her hands pushing against the steel ceiling before falling to press restless fingertips into his abs. Grace's back slammed against the steering wheel as she leaned backwards, straining for even more friction, even though she could barely stand the friction they already had.

It was unbearable, too much to take, but she needed it to go on, needed that solely focused release, even though they had to make it last, not willing to end it so soon, straining against their own frantic desire for release, for relief, for that moment of perfect weakness where nothing exists and everything matters.

…

* * *

**_Stay Tuned... for the horror is about to start, and the end is sadly near. _**


	7. Chapter 6

_**Down with the Sickness**_

…

_Chapter 6_

"Watch out!" Grace yelled suddenly, just as Nick caught sight of the large carcass blocking their path on the interstate. He swerved the Dodge to the shoulder, narrowly avoiding it, but then the sensation of going over a speed bump shook the cab of the truck, and Grace had to clutch the dashboard as the truck went out of control, and a flat tire ran them off the road.

She leaned back against the side of the truck, arms folded, ankles crossed, and watched him try to change the flat with the donut he had in the back.

"So, you're just a wanderer then?" he asked, hauling the truck up with the jack. Grace milled around behind me, keeping her feet moving restlessly.

"Call it whatever you want."

"No offense…"

"None taken, I just don't like talking about myself. So let's talk about you. What do you do back home in Denver?" she asked him, trying to be sociable. She dreaded the point where everything would inevitably become awkward between them after the whole, _'fuck me' _thing. She'd half expected him to kick her out of the truck once she put out, not cuddle with her all night, letting her cling to him through her nightmares. But as he went on as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, Grace was the one left feeling awkward and unsure. Ironic…

"I'm a mechanic, own my own garage."

"You make good money at that?"

"Good enough," he said. The stiff way it came out, all gruff and non-approachable, made her think she'd given him the wrong idea with the one of her voice.

"I'm not a gold-digger, if that's what you're worried about. I take care of myself."

"How?" he countered.

"'Scuse me…?" She stopped her pacing, spun on her heels, and looked down at him, to find him staring up at her curiously.

"How do you take care of yourself? Moving place to place like that, where does the money come from?" He always asked hard questions.

"Where ever I can get it," she told him truthfully with a casual shrug. The question reminded her that she needed another dose. Which meant she'd need to find a city soon; she couldn't keep depending on him for her survival. Now she was with no money, without transportation, and nowhere to go. Live was perfect. "When I'm in Florida: I boost cars and sell 'em to a friend of mine, who owns a chop shop," she told him candidly, doubting he'd turn her in.

"And when you're not in Florida?" he asked, not commenting on the admission of her being a car thief. He turned back to changing the tire and she resumed her pacing.

"Odds and ends, I usually can find overnighter jobs here and there in the more seedy cities. When I stick around for a few weeks in one place, I work as anything from a bartender to a dishwasher to a waitress. I had this really nice gig in San Diego as a chef, but it didn't last."

"And what do you do when you're stuck in areas like this?" he asked, gesturing around them to the desolate world they were passing through.

"You'll see as soon as we get this fixed and get into the next town." Since they had already decided to stop at a motel in the next town over, she assumed she'd have a little time to sneak out and make some cash.

He pulled up, wiping his dirty hands along his jeans, getting the grease and grime off them before he turned to her. "All done," he commented quietly, locking gazes with her.

"Good," she barked curtly, shifting her weight, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under his intense gaze. "Let's get going then." It was still the middle of the night, dark, in the middle of nowhere with nothing but woods for miles around. It was scary as hell to her. But even scarier was the look he was giving her, scary in the way that she had absolutely no idea how to react to it, to deal with him.

"Just—" he began, holding up a hand and stepping closer, his head tilting to the side. "—wait." He stopped centimeters from her, their bodies practically flush. And heat coursed through her as static ran up her spine.

"We… really… should… get… going…" she spoke each word pointedly, too much time elapsing in between as she struggled for breath. Licking her lips, Grace watched him watch her. He was waiting patiently, knowing the effect he had on her all of a sudden, and fully aware that she was not going to be able to deny it.

Darting upwards on her toes, Grace slammed her mouth against his, not so gently. Her hand gripped the back of his neck, pulling him down to her as she nipped at his bottom lip, her tongue coating the seam of his lips, insisting on entry. Stumbling backwards, Grace found herself pushed up against the side of the truck. Her hands slid down from his face, his neck, his shoulders, to push the collar of his jacket away, sliding it off his shoulders, and down his arms, letting it drop to the grassy ground beneath them.

"Oh," she gasped out, breaking apart from his lips to suck in air frantically, just as his hands dipped down to grip the backs of her thighs, and haul her up against him. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he carried her around the truck, to the back, and lowered the tailgate with one hand, while the other got tangled in her chocolate tresses. "Nick," she moaned softly, breathy and languid.

He set her down on the bed of the truck, rippled steel biting into her flesh just as the cold night air blew through her air. He lowered her till her back hit the steel, and she pulled him down with her. The inky night sky and the dancing trees, and all those terrifying shadows went unnoticed by Grace as they stayed in that spot till dawn. She was too distracted to notice any of her surroundings.

Once the sun rose, Grace was woken up by a harsh light reaching through her closed eyelids to her unconscious state. She groaned and rolled off of Nick's chest, the cold hard steel making her hiss. She propped herself up on her elbows and squinted against the light, taking in her surroundings. Pushing up to a seated position, Grace held his jacket over her chest, from where she'd woken up with it being the only thing covering her bare body, though she had no memory of retrieving it from the ground the night before.

"Hey," she said, finding her voice raspy from thirst and sleep. "Nick," she called, shaking his shoulder. He groaned and covered his face with his hand. Grace rolled her eyes and slid off the tailgate, wincing as her bare feet collided with the sharp ground. "Ow, ow, ow…" She collected her clothing from various points around the truck and in the bed of it. Once she got all her underwear and tee-shirt and jeans on, Grace slid on Nick's jacket. The sleeves hung over her hands, the hem brushed her thighs, and it nearly swallowed her as a whole, but it kept her warm.

Afterwards, she climbed back into the bed of the truck, and shook Nick awake with brutality. "Alright, I'm up." He croaked, pushing up quickly and jumping down. Grace climbed into the passenger side as he got dressed and joined her, revving the Dodge's engine to life and getting back on the road. "We'll have to stop in the next town and get a new tire for this. The donut won't make it too many more miles," he told her, watching her nimble fingers fiddle with the radio dial as he remembered the night before and smiled, completely content.

…


	8. Chapter 7

_**Down with the Sickness**_

…

_Chapter 7_

Darkness clouded her vision even as it cleared from its unconscious haze. A soft groan escaped her lips breathily as she came to, her face scrunching with pain and confusion, her head dipped down limply as masses of tangled obsidian hair curtained around her. By the way she could feel her hair brush along her shoulders, sending chills up her spine, Grace realized her jacket was missing, leaving her in the simple white tank top, covered in soot. Pins and needles rushed through her hands when she tried to move, and tugging against the resistance she felt, she found her wrists bound by chafing rope behind her back, a round wooden post pressed painfully into her spine.

A figure emerged from the shadows encroaching on every side of her, darkness masking her surroundings into the unknown. She could tell she wasn't at the motel anymore, the one she'd fallen asleep in beside Nick, obviously, considering the concrete floor, the windowless walls, and the wooden post she was bound to.

Grace's struggle intensified as panic seized her heart, the ropes relentless against her wrists, skin scraped away from her efforts. The sharp sting was nothing compared to the barely controlled hysteria threatening to take over her, the situation making images, emotions, and memories resurface in her, driving her closer to the point of insanity. She couldn't take this, not again.

"What do you want?" she demanded, forcing her raspy voice to sound strong, harsh, and cringing as it cracked slightly. She held her chin high, eyes wide open and watching as the figure advanced on her, steps slow and measured, identity still protected by shadow. She tore at the ropes again, yanking her hands away as she tried to move, once again in vain.

She sucked in a sharp breath, hissing at the sting as her wrists rubbed against the rope, up and down, side to side, as she tried to wiggle herself free.

Another step, he came, and when he stepped into the dim light, Grace's breath hitched, a whimper threatening to escape her control. She still couldn't see his face, a hooded duster jacket masking his features from her even as he closed the distance between them, mere inches away from her, at arm's length.

"Who are you?" she croaked hoarsely, struggling against her bindings with renewed force as she caught the gleam of steel as he withdrew a dagger and displayed it for her, tauntingly. Her violently writing body still as her drew the dagger over her throat, the tip grazing her collarbone, cold metal sending terrified shudders through her as her fingers dug into the wood hard enough to bleed, trying to keep herself still. Her wide eyes followed the blade as he drew it down her chest, between her breasts, down her abdomen to the sliver of exposed flesh between the waistband of her jeans and the flimsy top that rode up with her struggling.

Resentment flashed through her, and Grace remembered the terror that held her years ago. She had truly thought she would die back then and now… now that same feeling was coming over her. But with the harsh reminder, Grace found her terror being overwhelmed by her rage. She'd been through this before. She'd already faced her monster. And that serene resignation that washed over her the moment she looked into his eyes and pulled the trigger, embracing her demon to kill the monster, and end the nightmare once and for all…

'_I don't feel a thing.'_

When she'd felt that numbness, she'd promised herself she'd never go through that again, she'd never be the terrorized victim ever again. And here she was again, in that same position. The thought made her furious, more angry than scared at the thought of finally being taken out this way, after everything she'd overcome… by a faceless monster. No apparent rhyme or reason.

No. She decided defiantly, embracing her anger. No, she'd already dealt with her fair share of monsters, and she could deal with this one. They could all go to hell. With everything she's done just to simply survive, to stay alive, there was no way she'd be pushed back to that cowering college girl, terrorized by a madman simply because she'd been stupid enough to want to help a stranger. That wouldn't happen again. She was no longer that little girl, hadn't been for a long time. She was Grace Andrews now. And Grace Andrews faced monsters head on, and sent them back to the hell they crawled out of.

This one was no different. So, as she steadily tore through the ropes, shredding them as she worked, she looked for some sort of weapon, and found her gun, resting on a rickety end table in the corner. As the last shreds of rope fell from her wrists, Grace shoved the knife away, kicking the stranger in the gut, and lunging for the gun. She rolled over the floor, grasping the cold steel in her steady hand, spun around, and squeezed the trigger.

… … …

She woke to the sound of the gun blast, blaring through her eardrums painfully as the concrete room faded into the familiar motel room scene. She found herself on the floor, gun in hand, back pressed against the far wall. She followed the gun's aim to find Nick… lying in a pool of blood on the bed. Dropping the gun with a gasp, Grace rushed forward, grasping at the wound in his chest, and puling away as she realized he was already dead…

"_Oh my god…" _

… … …

"What the hell!" Lucas exclaimed suddenly, jumping up from the sofa and letting the Xbox controller slip from his hands. Brooke just smiled impishly up at him with a twinkle in her eye.

"Plot twist, baby…" she retorted simply, licking her lips in a sensual move to distract him from his outrage.

"You killed me! We were almost to the end, and you killed me. We didn't even reach that haunted mansion yet."

"I'm sorry, but gotta keep it interesting, don't we?" she teased, grabbing his hand and tugging him back down to the sofa, his hand caught on the back of the sofa to hold himself up over her as he leaned down to kiss her.

The two were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't notice the smoke filtering in from underneath the front door. The lights flickered before the house was suddenly pitched in darkness. They broke apart, glancing around them warily before a loud crash startled them both. Glass shards clattered loudly to the floor from the mirror, hung on the wall in the foyer. Crimson syrup dripped slowly down the pieces left in the frame of the antique.

**"**_**Stay Alive"**_ it said.

…

…

…

**The End

* * *

**

_New One Tree Hill Story coming soon: 12 Minutes to Midnight_

_Six years later, Brooke and Lucas have the perfect life, until their daughter is kidnapped and held for ransom, while Brooke is trapped with one of the kidnappers.  
_


End file.
